


Across Thedas: Origins

by YippieKiKaye



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Developing Friendships, Hurt/Comfort, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-10-23 15:32:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10722156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YippieKiKaye/pseuds/YippieKiKaye
Summary: Matilda, a 15 year old fan of games like dragon age and skyrim, escapes a life of further abuse and torment at the hands of her mothers drug lords by comiting suicide. Little does she know, she's about to get a fresh start in one of her favorite worlds. Confused, scared, and delighted all at once, Matilda will make her way across Thedas, one hero at a time.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning, nothing graphic, no actual rape here, but it is clear it happened and that it has happened a lot. Trigger warning for suicidal behavior and blood. 
> 
> I apologize for the roughness of these chapters, I didnt go back and re-read any of it and they're unbetad.

Matilda did not cry as she drug her body across the floor into the tiny bathroom. She was used to the way her body ached after her mothers friends had their way with her. She just wished she could have saved her game first. It was the only thing that kept her life from feeling completely dark. When she managed to to make it to the tub, she ran a hot bath, ignoring the sounds of her mother getting high in the next room.  


Lowering herself into the water was always the hard part, hissing as it scorched new hurts, but relaxing once it hit her muscles. She cleaned herself with practiced motions, taking small comfort that the water didn't turn pink this time. Heavy footfalls alerted her to someone familiar coming towards her. She panicked, rushing to the door, despite how it twinged her nether regions, and locking it quickly.

Not now!, she thought desperately, Not so soon after the rest! It was her mothers boyfriend. He usually left her alone after a day like this. He must have been drinking. She could hear him hollering for her through the door, ever demanding, ever encroaching, always taking the last of whatever she had. Not this time, she thought, body trembling in fear, but hands steady with decision.

Taking her mothers razor from the sink, she broke the plastic away carefully, ignoring the increasing volume of the man outside the door. Taking one of the small, shining blades in her fingers, she held it close to her face, looking at it in near reverence as a calm unlike any other swept through her. She returned to the bath, still steaming with promises of comfort, and sank into the water as the monster started to beat on the door. She sank the blade deeply into her forearm, sliding it from inner elbow to wrist.

Matilda would not wake up here. Never again would she worry about untold men entering her room, or allowing them to do anything they wanted, because that was how it had always been. Never again would she have to look away as her mother stood and looked on, making sure she got what she used her daughter to pay for. No, she was leaving this place now, her eyelids growing heavier, her heart slowing. She regretted never getting to say goodbye to her blissfully ignorant grandmother, and more so, never getting to see her game through for the last time, but she smiled all the same, floating, drifting, flying away from this wretched life.

XXXXXXXXXX

Her eyes opened slowly. Did they? Where was she? Was she even where? It felt strange and floaty, but not entirely unpleasant. She wondered what this was. Wasn't she just doing…… What had she been doing? She tried to recall but any and all memories she tried to bring to the forefront of her mind seemed fuzzy, or blurred, as if hidden behind old fashioned glass. She started to panic when her own name was just as blurry.

"Peace, child", a woman's voice said, soft but commanding. She looked all around, but there was nothing, just a vast emptiness, though not a lonely one. A warmth spread through her, endearing and safe. All at once, she remembered. Her name was Matilda, and she had killed herself. So why was she floating here? "You must choose", said the voice as four objects materialized in front of her with a green shimmer and a sound like small bells.

Matilda looked at the four items before her, as the entity bade. She still did not fully understand. What did the items represent? What was the spirit trying to get her to do? "Choose", the voice spoke again, calming, like an early summer rain or a leisurely walk through the park. She could swear the voice was familiar somehow, the slightly raspy quality niggling at the back of her mind. She looked around, trying to find it's source again.

When she found none, she turned back to the items. A plain shield that seemed to be made of stone, an intricately filigreed silver longsword, a two handed blade with dragons carved into the pommel, and an oak sapling. What were they for? And why did she have to choose one. She ran the tips of her fingers over each one, stopping when she came to the sapling. It pulsed at her touch, feeling like a heartbeat. Upon closer inspection, she discovered it was no sapling at all.

It was a simple wooden staff with branches growing out the top, reaching, reaching, reaching for just a few drops of precious sunlight, and roots growing out of the bottom, keeping it steady and strong. All at once, Matilda knew, without a doubt, the staff was hers. She tenderly caressed one of the emerald oak leaves just as the sensation of falling into a deep sleep touched her eyelids.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matilda awakens to her new life.

Matilda's eyes opened slowly, with great difficulty. They were dry and gritty, as though she were trying to open them while buried in sand. She moved a hand to wipe at them, but that was difficult too. Her skin felt dry and crackly, like burnt wood, or a thick layer of dust on a car. Her body felt heavy and stunted, like petrified wood coming back to life, and she was thirstier than she'd ever been, her lips feeling cracked and throat swollen.

When she was finally able to open her eyes completely, it was to see a fine grey dust crumbling away from her flesh. Coughing, she looked down at herself. She was sitting on the ground, indian style. Red hair tumbled down her shoulders to pool on the ground around her, entwined with small vines that had grown up from the cracks between the stones of the floor. Strange leather garments covered her legs and torso, but they were moldering and ancient. Her limbs were delicate but strong looking, and what she could see of her skin beneath the grey dust was a rich brown the color of wood stained with walnut oil.

This was not her body. She was pale, malnourished looking, with lank brown hair. She gasped in confusion, scooting away from her spot on the floor. Her back met a cold, damp wall, her fingernails cracking on the stone in her desperation. The vines entwined in the hair that was not her own, tugging painfully. "Be calm", a familiar voice spoke near her. She turned confused eyes toward the sound, her gaze falling on an old woman dressed in simple, medieval type clothes, holding a vial of blue liquid.

With her grey hair, ancient golden eyes, and raspy voice, the woman reminded Matilda of….But that couldn't be, she wasn't real. She was a video game character. "Drink this. It'll help.", the woman spoke, holding the vial out to her. Several moments went by before Matilda reached out a shaky, unfamiliar hand, wrapping slim fingers around the vial and brought it to her lips. The woman watched her as she tilted the vial back and swallowed the contents.

A cooling sensation filled her mouth and soothed her throat, returning life to the limbs of this strange body. It tingled, making her muscles and a small secret place deep within her, somewhere behind her heart, sing with unbound energy. She rubbed her eyes and stood shakily. "Thank you, she told the woman. Matildas gaze never left the woman as walked to a small fire in the center of the room. Taking a slower look around, she noted that it was rather small, perhaps storage of some kind? There was broken pottery scattered around and a stone alter with a small statue atop it. The statue looked familiar, as the woman did, but Matilda was still wary. This couldnt be what she thought it was, could it?

"What is your name, child?", the woman asked from across the fire, her golden eyes flashing. "Matilda", she answered calmly, "And you?". She replied without looking away, "Many call me Flemeth". Matildas breath stuck in her throat, her eyes widening. This was really happening? Flemeth laughed out loud, a familiar almost crazy cackle that flowed like water. "I see you know me. Pray, tell, do you know what else I am called?". It took several tries, but eventually she was able to open her mouth and whisper, "Asha'Belenar, Witch of the wilds….", and even quieter, "Mythal".

It was Flemeth's turn to be shocked, eyes widening only the slightest bit, her mouth setting in a grim line. "Well", she said after a few moments, "You certainly are a surprise. What else do you know, hm?". Matilda blanched. What else did she know?! If what was happening, really was happening, and she was really in Thedas, the world of Dragon Age, her most adored video game series, then she knew enough to tear open the veil herself. But should she tell Flemeth any of it? She wasn't so sure. Most things Matilda knew, even Flemeth couldn't possibly know in all her worldly wisdom. What could she say? And did her presence here mean anything? Was she supposed to be here to help, or did her existence in this world not even matter?

A feeling in that small place behind her heart niggled at her and, making a split decision, she spoke carefully, "Many things no one is yet to know". Flemeth stared at her for half a second, expression unreadable, before laughing her familiar laugh. "Indeed", she said when she was done, though Matilda could still see mirth twinkling in her eyes. "Why did you bring me here?", she asked Flemeth in a rush, starting to feel a little breathless. Flemeth raised a brow at her. "Bring you here?", she said, flummoxed, "You were the one floating around, looking for somewhere to go. I simply provided you a landing place". Matilda had nothing to say after that.

She watched as Flemeth put out the small fire, most of the light disappearing with it. The lack of light cast strange shadows on Flemeth, making her appear harsher than Matilda knew her to be. Flemeth scattered the ashes from the fire, doing her bast to make it appear that no one had ever been here before picking up a small satchel and slinging it over her shoulder. "Come, Matilda. You will stay with me while we sort some things out", Flemeth told her matter of factly, taking her new red hair and yanking it away from the vines grown into it. She had forgotten about that. Her hair was long enough to drag on the ground while she walked. Gathering it into her arms, she followed Flemeth from the room, beginning to wonder about the timeline of all this, and when exactly she had arrived.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! Sorry it's been so long, I get hit with writers block a lot! So here's the next chapter now, and ill be adding another one in a another hour or so. Enjoy!

Matilda followed Flemeth through the forest for what seemed like an eternity, wondering what or who would be at her hut to greet them, before she spoke again. "Will Morrigan be there?", she asked rather timidly. Flemeth looked at her with narrowed eyes, replying with a short, "No". Matilda remained silent the rest of the way, though she could feel Flemeth's eyes on her. A prickling sensation across her skin and up her scalp told her the grey dust was still crumbleing away from her skin and from between the roots of her hair. Her's?

When they finally crested a hill, and Matilda spotted the small, worn hut, she sighed in a mixture of relief, trepidation, and some other weird things she couldn't begin to describe, but knew instinctively it was connected to being here. Or was she? What was happening? She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away to deal with at a later date and focused on the familiar yet completely alien hut. She had seen it countless times playing the game, but of course now it appeared to be real, and in much greater detail.

"You will need to bathe in the pond, or the dust will never come off", Flemeth, Mythal?, spoke suddenly, making Matilda jump. She turned to the old woman as she continued, "I have a comb for your hair, but you may need to cut some of it". Matilda just stared a moment, flabbergasted that she was having a conversation about bathing with Flemeth of Dragon Age. The absurdity of it all was catching up to her almost without her notice. "Thank you", she managed to squeak out, holding in a hysteria that would have scared her had she not felt so many other things at once. Flemeth nodded, looking at her with a strange sort of understanding in her eyes, before leading her to the edge of the pond and heading inside to collect the things she would need to clean up.


	4. Chapter 4

Matilda scrubbed at her hair furiously. Getting it wet had hardly helped in getting all the vines out. She wished she had some shampoo, or something. The dust had come out relatively easily, after she had soaked for several minutes. But her hair was so long, even without being very thick, it seemed that every time she untangled a vine, there was three more to take it's place. How many times had she wished to have long, beautiful hair? Actually having it now, she could see she had romanticized it with no provocation. She eyed the long dagger Flemeth had brought her, thinking about just cutting it all off for the umpteenth time.

She couldn't. Now that she had hair she had always dreamed of, as silly as it seemed, she couldn't possibly part with all of it. As more and more of the grime had fallen away from it, she got better and better looks at the color, a better and better sense for how soft and healthy it was. The color was somewhere between wild, orange flames and the rusty color of old blood, coppery in it's sheen with tidbits of gold threaded throughout and blended effortlessly. A far cry more beautiful than the short, flat, greasy brown of her original body. Her human body.

That was another thing she hadn't expected. She was an elf now. She'd discovered her long, pointed ears as she had massaged the gunk from her scalp. Long they were indeed, but along side her skull and back, instead of the outward angle she had come to get used to from the elven people in the games. She had a few rings hanging from the ear on her left and a wide cuff cupping the top cartilage of the ear on her right. Matilda thought, too, that this body might be from a dalish elf. Whenever she brushed her fingertips over her face, she could feel raised lines across her forehead, cheekbones, and a line down the bridge of her nose and both her lips to a small cluster of them on her chin. It might be vallaslin, or blood writing, sacred tattoos the dalish received when they came of age.

She stopped her pondering for now and picked up the comb Flemeth had laid on the clothes Matilda would dress in once the agonizing bathing process was over. Yanking it through her hair, she decided to just push all the vines to the bottom and chop that part off. It would still leave her with hair passed her waist at least. Once that was done, nearly an hour later, she dried off with a soft cotton blanket, twisted it around her hair, and dressed as quickly as she could. There were pliable leather underthings with corded lace ups, a short sleeved, beige tunic that hugged her figure around the waist with the chain mail that was stitched into it and hung to mid thigh, tight but breathable cotton leggings, and worn but sturdy leather pull on boots. The whole look was completed with a simple but thick leather belt, with a few pouches decorating it, buckled around her waist. Her hair she let down to dry against her back.

Matilda stood in front go the door to Flemeths for several seconds, frozen with indecision over whether or not to knock. Flemeth already knew she was here, had loaned her everything Matilda had. She decided it would probably be silly to knock, and opened the door timidly. The living area she entered was familiar in it's deceptive simplicity. Everything, when looked at as a whole, seems nothing but a chaotic mess. But when looked at carefully, deliberately picking through it, everything had it's place. There was small cauldron steaming over a fire in the fireplace, and there in front of that was an end table with two stools on either side. a bowl of some kind of stew, a thick slice of bread, and a cup of water sat to one side, a steaming cup of tea and Flemeth herself on the other.


End file.
